


Brace Yourself For The Fall

by annacpeyxo



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-24
Updated: 2015-02-24
Packaged: 2018-03-14 22:38:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 16
Words: 20,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3428108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annacpeyxo/pseuds/annacpeyxo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nothing ever works out like it's supposed to, especially for Sherlock Holmes.<br/>When an old flame comes back from the dead, a psychotic criminal gets a little too friendly, and a new acquaintance decides to make things difficult, will anything ever be close to normal for the detective? Or will he have to take the fall?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this about a year ago so...  
> Don't expect it to be good, okay?  
> It fits all of the cliches, and is, in my opinion, terrible, but hey. Some of you might like it.

**Chapter One**

**Sherlock’s POV**

“Sherlock, are you sure you’ll be okay?” John’s voice penetrated my thoughts, and it annoyed me. I can’t help but blame him for the fact that all the criminals are at a nice little dinner party in Bangladesh rethinking their life choices. I shift along the sofa, bashing my head against the wooden floor and staying that way. Who cares?

“John, leave.” I haven’t finished my sentence before he slams the door and practically jumps into a taxi. He must really like this one. Was she the teacher? Or the doctor?

“Mrs Hudson!” I find myself shouting, and she comes running up the stairs like an eager puppy. How I hate that run.

“Sherlock, dear, you’ll hurt yourself!” She bustles over, and despite her height pulls me up. She seemed concerned when we’d stopped having calls from Moriarty’s stolen voices, but she’s gotten used to it. Everyone has. Except me.

“Bored…” I mumble, but she manages to hear me and sits next to me, fishing out a newspaper and holding it in front of us.

“Why don’t you help me with my sudoku?” I grab the paper and finish all the puzzles on the page before she has time to grab it back.

“Sherlock!” She seems to have heard the ring before I have, and I look down to see the phone vibrating on the table. Moriarty’s stolen voices.

“Hello?”

“Hi again, Sherlock.”

I’m silent. It’s her. I’ve been looking for her.

“Ava?” My voice cracks.

“Told you I’d burn you.”

“How long have I got? Just tell me how long!”

“Thirty minutes. Good luck.” She starts sobbing and phone cuts off.

Before I have time to react a picture pops up and it shows the building where I lost her. Bakersville Boarding School. Then a text.

‘If you’re confused, figure out where she is.”

He doesn’t want me to figure out anything. He just wants me to go and find her. In thirty minutes.

I launch out of my seat, ignoring Mrs Hudson’s questions, and find myself in a police car. Driving. Anderson is running along behind me, but for once I don’t take the opportunity to embarrass him and just get the phone onto Lestrade.

“Any more on the robbery, Ander-”

“Lestrade, Bakersville Boarding School. Now.”

“Sherlock?”

“Bomb disposal squad. Everyone, just get over there.”

“Wait. There’s another one?”

“Yes. Now go!”

“Donovan, get everyone out!” The line cuts off and I turn on the sirens, cars jumping out of my way.

 

**John’s POV**

“Sorry Julie, I’ve got to get this.”

“Oh, it’s okay.”

I don’t have time to say anything before Greg’s voice shoots down the line, “John, we’ve just had a call from Sherlock. There’s been another one, you need to get to Bakersville Boarding. Quickly.” I can hear the sirens in the background, and put the phone down before turning to my twelfth girlfriend this year.

“Um, I’ve got to-” She cuts me off.

“Oh, again? Are you sure you and Sherlock don’t belong together?!” She runs out of the restaurant, leaving everyone staring at me.

“I’m not gay!” I shout as I pull my coat on and run out to a taxi. “Bakersville Boarding, please.”

 

**Sherlock’s POV**

Five minutes… Five minutes

I step on the gas pedal, flying down the road and skidding to stop in front of the school I hated for years. As soon as I go past the gates the phone rings.

“Sherlock, I’m in the car park.” It cuts off, and I make a map in my head, figuring out exactly where she is. Veering to the right and round the Astronomy block brings me to the field, and at the end of that the pass leads to the car park. I run.

 

**Lestrade’s POV**

“Go!”

A text from Sherlock confirms it’s in the car park, and we send everyone there, leaving Donovan to go and tell the headmistress to close the school. I’m glad I have the option to leave the hard work to her.

I tap my foot, waiting for John to arrive. I hear shouting from the other side of the field, and just pray that Sherlock will be able to get there in time.

A taxi comes haring round the corner, and I see John jump out and come running over. “Where’s Sherlock?”

“He got here before us.”

“Why is this one so important to him?”

I shrug and we start to jog over after the all clear message comes buzzing through.

 

**Sherlock’s POV**

I pull the car door open and she collapses into me. I kneel down and hold her up. Bruises. Moriarty.

“What did he do to you?” I mumble as I have to support her out of the car and into waiting police vehicle. Everyone is concentrating on stopping the explosion, so she has time to stop crying before Lestrade and John get here.

“Jesus Christ…” Lestrade gasps as John hands Ava a blanket. An orange one. Shock.

“Lets get you out of here.”  

 

 


	2. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two**

**Ava’s POV**

I see my brother has succeeded. Welcome back, Miss Ostrovsky - MH

The text buzzes in my pocket but no one else seems to notice, they’re all focused on me. I don’t know how many blankets I have around me, but the orange makes me want to throw up. Sherlock was dragged back as soon as the medics got here. At least, I think he’s a medic. He introduced himself as John and started taking my blood pressure. He acts like I should know him. I don’t.

“Sherlock?” John turns back and Sherlock runs towards us, visibly panicking. I’ve never seen him like that before. He ignores the medic, and goes straight for me.

“Oh my God, Ava…” I would try to hug him back, but my hands are trapped. He’s never completely lost control before, but he looks different. Almost ordinary.

“Um…” John coughs but Sherlock doesn’t let go until I’ve pushed him away. He turns back and stares down at the kneeling man, probably proud of his height. “We should probably get her to a hospital-”

“No.” Me and Sherlock say at the same time. Just like old times.

“No?” A Detective Inspector raises his eyebrows, “Sherlock, she’s just been strapped to a bomb, I think she should go to hospital.”

“Oh, shut up, Graham-”

“It’s Greg.”

“Really?”

“Yes!”

“You know, she probably should go to the hosp-” Another police officer comes over with way too much gel in his hair and a permanent sneer on his face. I hate him already.

“Yes, thank you for your input.” Sherlock’s voice drips with sarcasm as it used to, and I can’t help but laugh, “Maybe you could make it as a stand-up comedian, Anderson, but at the moment it would be helpful if you would shut up.”

Anderson looks at Lestrade, but Lestrade sends him away. He looks annoyed, and goes over to talk to a frizzy haired girl with bright red lipstick. Maybe I could give the old deduction skills a try.

Red lipstick suggests Lestrade’s right hand woman, doing all the secretarial work while he gets involved in criminal chases. Way she holds herself towards Anderson suggests they are having an affair, but her clothes say high self-esteem, making me question why she’s sleeping with a man like him.

“She’s coming back to 221B whether you like it or not, Lestrade, now please go away and let me drive.” I realise I’ve been strapped into the police car and the door closed while Sherlock is pulling away. We get out of the old school grounds and pull onto the motorway. We drive for twenty minutes before he starts questioning.

 

**Sherlock’s POV**

“Why did you leave?” I find myself asking, my voice trembling like a child’s. Brilliant.

“It wasn’t my choice…”

“Why did you leave?”

“It wasn’t my choice! Sherlock, you know what happened and you know why so stop trying to blame everything on me!” I do know what happened, but I wish I didn’t. Sometimes I hate being intelligent and wish I was ordinary. I’d never tell John that, though. Never.

“Ava, I’m sorry…”

“I’m sorry too, it’s just…”

“What did he do to you?”

“To be honest, I can’t even remember. But they were terrible, Sherlock. Horrid.”

The drive took thirty minutes, and people were following us up to the front door. It was annoying. Intensely annoying. Mrs Hudson peeked out of her door and looked puzzled at seeing Ava, but then remember what she was going to say and tried to stop me from getting to the flat.

“Oh, Sherlock, I’m so sorry! I tried to stop him, but he-”

“Mycroft.” I’d forgotten just how sharp Ava’s deduction skills are, and stared at her retreating back. As soon as she was out of earshot, Mrs Hudson started babbling.

“Who is she, Sherlock? I hope she’s not another mass murderer-”

“She’s the smartest person you’ve ever met. Now let me get past!” I ran up the stairs to find Mycroft sitting stiffly in John’s chair while Ava lay on the sofa, staring right at him. He returned her gaze, but looked sheepish. He still doesn’t like her. Typical Mycroft.

“Brother, dear. How nice to see you’ve got your friend back.”

“Shut up, Mycroft.” I mumble, sitting next to Ava’s legs before she kicks me in the side.

“So, have you just come to bore us or are you going to be as interesting as you have ever been?”

 

**John’s POV**

“Look, I’ll take you back in the car and you can buy me a sandwich or something.” After refusing countless times due to the fact that I wouldn’t be able to repay him, Lestrade had finally found a solution I agreed with. I slid into the seat and we shot off, staying in silence for the first twenty minutes of the drive.

“So, who was that girl?” I ask, my curiosity taking over. Sherlock would never have shown that much compassion towards a normal victim of Moriarty’s plans, but he’s never mentioned anyone like her.

“You know what, I have no bloody idea…”

 

**Mycroft’s POV**

“Get out and stay out!” My brother’s housekeeper shouts after me, brandishing a saucepan and slamming the door behind me. Anthea walks up to me, her head buried in her phone, and leads me to the car.

“How was it?” She looks up and leans back into the leather seat while we speed away from Sherlock’s lodgings.

“I know why Moriarty brought her back. He wants to destroy Sherlock… he’s basically done it.”

“What do you mean?”

“My brother will do anything for Miss Ostrovsky, and killing himself is no exception. That’s Moriarty’s game, and I must say it’s working very well…”

 

 


	3. Chapter Three

**Chapter Three**

**Ava’s POV**

John gets back after half an hour, not noticing me lying on the couch and turning straight to Sherlock. It really is amazing how unobservant he is. I wonder how Sherlock puts up with him…

“What the hell happened back there?” He sounds out of breath. I glance at him and see that he’s put on roughly seven pounds since he divorced his wife. I can’t help but think that I shouldn’t be doing this, but that was when I was with Jim. I’m not anymore. I’m safe.

“I got a phone call, I went there and saved someone… Is that not good, or are you just being stupid again?” Sherlock mumbles over his fingers, staring straight at me and not blinking.

“Let me rephrase that… who the hell was she?” His sarcasm is lost on Sherlock, and my detective tears his eyes from mine to glare at John.

“Why don’t you ask her yourself?” He gestures towards me and his companion turns to face me, all the anger falling from his features and now he looks worried. Why does Sherlock like this man?

“I’m Ava Ostrovsky, twenty-three years old and female. I know that you left your wife due to her relapsing back into the CIA and that you are constantly worried about something. You admire Sherlock’s deduction skills but sometimes find them very frustrating. You’re an ex-soldier-”

“I’ve already told him that.” Sherlock leans around John and grins, probably signalling that I got everything right. The look on the soldier’s face says it all, and he quickly turns back to his friend and mumbles something before rushing out.

“What did he say?” I ask, half-interested.

“He’s going to pick up his daughter from Mary’s…”

“Anything else?”

“Well, he asked if he was in an asylum, but I think he was trying to be funny.” He puts down his book as Mrs Hudson enters the room, and she immediately starts asking questions. Typical for an exotic dancer.

 

**John’s POV**

What the bloody hell just happened?

I climb out of the taxi and hand a fiver to the cab driver, walking up to Mary’s house. Our house, before she started murdering people again. Knocking as I normally do, I lean on the railing, thinking.

Why are all my friends sociopaths?

I expect my ex-wife to open the door with her usual cold eyes and glare, but she must have been beaten to it by Emily. My beautiful, blonde, six year old daughter flings herself at me, wrapping her thin arms around my legs and squealing. I pull her into my arms, making her laugh and slap me in the face. She may think I’m indestructible, but that hurt. A lot.

“Hey, Em!” I drop her down on the wooden floor again as her mother comes stalking down the hallway. She doesn’t even attempt to hide her discomfort in front of Emily, but she doesn’t seem to notice. She’s too busy playing with my shoelaces.

“Hello, John,” The woman I used to know as Mary Watson mumbles, pulling the little girls arms into her coat and kissing her on the forehead, “How’s Sherlock?”

“He’s good.” I really wish I felt like telling her about the case, but I can’t. Not when I see the glint of a gun hidden in her handbag.

“Bye then, darling.” She turns to Em, hugging her and waving goodbye.

As soon as the door shuts, my lovely daughter starts talking about knives.

She’s a brilliant mother, that Mary…

 

**Sherlock’s POV**

“Mrs Hudson, coffee!” I shout into the kitchen, tapping my pen on John’s laptop.

“I’m not your housekeeper!”

“Maybe the world would be a better place if you were!” Ava climbs over the table and perches on the edge of my chair, taking the pen out of my hand.

“Sherlock.” I look up at her, seeing straight past the brave face and staring right into the eyes of the scared, abused girl inside, “Thank you…”

I’m speechless for once.

“I mean, you brought me out of my shell, and-”

“No I didn’t, I put you even further into it when he found out.”

“Sherlock, that was ages ago, can’t we just forget-”

“No, Ava, we can’t! He put you through torture because of it and I’m not going to let you argue!”

“Sherlock, it’s wasn’t that bad-”

“Let me see your arm.” She’d been holding it out ever since she’d been here, and I just know that she’s lying.

“Sherlock…”

“Let me see it!”

She shakes her head but I yank up the arm of her blouse to reveal a long, deep cut and what sounds like a broken bone when I touch it. My anger immediately melts away and I can’t look away from the purple skin.

“I’m sorry.” I mumble, not hearing John burst through the door with Emily at his side.

“Oh God…” John gasps and sets his daughter down in the kitchen before rushing towards Ava, examining the cut. I hear Emily crying and absent-mindedly pick her up, starting towards the kitchen before I can register what I’m doing.

I’ve just hurt her even more.

“What’s happened, Sherlock?” Mrs Hudson bustles through the door, sees the injury and grabs the girl from me while I slip into my mind palace.

I don’t know how I got here so fast, but it’s the psychopath ward. I push the door open and standing over Moriarty’s kneeling body. He’s laughing, and I suddenly have the overwhelming urge to punch him. He looks up at me with crazed eyes, and smiles.

“Do you like the improvements I made, Sherly? She obeys me now. Soon you’ll be like that. Soon…”

“I swear, James Moriarty, that one day I will murder you.”

“Oh, but then you wouldn’t be an angel. She won’t love you if you’re not an angel.”

“I may be on the side of the angels, but don’t you ever for a second think that I am one of them.”


	4. Chapter Four

**Chapter Four**

**John’s POV**

After Mrs Hudson had stopped panicking and Sherlock had snapped out of his daze, I’d finally managed to get Ava to St Barts. She put up a fight, I will admit, but seemed happy enough when I told her she could deduce the doctors. She reminds me of Emily. Except Em isn’t a high-functioning sociopath. At least, I hope not.

“Where’s Sherlock?” Her eyes darted about from the hospital bed, probably still drowsy from all the drugs they’d had to give her to get her to sleep so they could set the bone. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’d used up the whole supply.

“I think he went to the bathroom…” He’s been in there for fifteen minutes. I have no idea what he’s doing, but I think he’s in his mind palace. If he’s not he’s got lost, which is literally impossible for Sherlock Holmes, so mind palace it is.

“Why would he have gone to the bathroom? He went there before we le-” Molly bursts through the door, dropping all of her papers and tripping over a stray IV line. I get up to help her but she seems to manage on her own and stares straight at Ava.

“I heard one of Sherlock friends was here and I…” Her face falls as she realises who this patient might be to Sherlock, and looks at me as if expecting an answer. It’s Sherlock, will we ever know with him? I shrug and a little more hope seems to come into her eyes. Ava gaze is darting between us, probably calculating how good our relationship would be if- wait, what the hell am I thinking? No, John, no, shut up…

“Hello, Molly Hooper. Found any interesting bodies in the morgue?” Ava is trying to sound interested, but I guess that’s one of the many emotions she can’t feel.

“Oh, you’re like Sherlock?” Molly sounds nervous, like she’s said the wrong thing. She probably has.

“Yes, I am a sociopath.”

“Oh…”

“I’m going to go see where Sherlock is…” I escape the awkward atmosphere and head towards the mens bathroom. What the hell am I going to say?

 

**Molly’s POV**

“You haven’t answered my question.” I shuffle in the corner of the room, wishing someone was here. Anyone.

“Oh, really? What question?” I ask, my voice going unusually high. Why does it do this?

“Found any interesting bodies?” She suppresses a sigh and stares at me with that calculating gaze. Just like Sherlock.

“Well, there was a strange tattoo on someone’s back, but not much else…”

“What was the tattoo?”

“It was a Jigglypuff.

“A what?”

“A Jigglypuff. You know, Pokemon?”

“No.”

“Um, well, it’s this…”

 

**Sherlock’s POV**

“What are you doing?” John pushes through the door and walks over to me, pulling me out from under the sink.

“Thinking…” John sighs at my answer and grabs me by the shoulders, turning me to face him.

“Sherlock, you’ve been here for fifteen minutes, I know there’s something more than thinking.”

“John…”

“Sherlock?”

“I hurt her again.”

“How?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“Why?”

“You’d die…” Now that hit me.

“What?”

“Mori-Moria… He’d kill you.”

“Why?”

“Because he doesn’t want anyone to know that she double-crossed him. She beat him before he beat her.”

“Sherlock, I don’t care if Moriarty goes after me,” For some reason Sherlock winces at the name and looks up at me like a kicked puppy, “I need to know. It’s for your own good.”

“Even in a bathroom?” I must have zoned out, because I hardly remember coming in here at all. We stare blankly at each other, and then simultaneously burst into laughter. People are looking at us like we stole the morphine, so we stifle the giggles and head outside.

**Ava’s POV**

“Okay, I still don’t understand what a Jigglypuff is…” We both laugh and Molly points out a picture on her phone. It’s nice, having a friend. I mean, we can talk like proper people. I like it.

“It’s this one!” The pink blob glares out of the screen at me, and I wince away, just making her laugh louder.

“Are you sure that’s not a marshmallow?” She chuckles and puts her phone in her pocket, knocking her papers out of her lap in the process.

“You know what? I’m going to get you the game.”

“There’s a game of this?”

“Yes, and you’re becoming a Pokemon master!”

“Oh God…”

 

**Sherlock POV**

I take a deep breath and blow out the smoke. I can see John frowning in the corner of my eye, but I don’t care.

“So, are you going to tell me?”

“Okay.”

 

 


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is back when they were at boarding school, because my past self felt like a little Doctor Who.

**Chapter Five**

**Sherlock's POV**

I eat alone, like everyday. Just some lettuce today, since the chicken is obviously not what it said, and the guilty look in the cook's eyes show that she had spat in the food. Of course. I scan the room, looking for anyone interesting, and my eyes immediately fall to my brother. Sipping a coffee next to the Head Girl he despises. I hate him. Simple.

Just about to resort to deducing her, my eyes are drawn to some new students. They hold hands, but I can see that the girl doesn't enjoy it. In fact, she despises the very boy that she is in a relationship with. But why?

The boys stone cold eyes tell me nothing, but his posture does. Blazer slung over his shoulder and tie loose around his neck suggests troublemaker, and generally a horrid person. One who hates clever people like me. Mycroft's voice resounds in my head, telling me that I'm stupid, telling me that I'm a disappointment. I shake my head and look up to find the whole school looking at me, including my brother. Please tell me I didn't say anything out loud…

"Are you okay?" I turn back to see the girl behind me, her eyes a lot warmer that her partner's and with her eyebrows creased together. I search my mind palace for anything that makes sense with that emotion, but am lost. I've never seen this one before. I just stare up at her, feeling her hand like a dead weight on my shoulder until she is pulled away.

"Ava, dear, don't talk to the freak!" He tries to put on a kind tone but I can see the anger hidden underneath. It looks like mine.

"What did you just call me?" I push my chair back, aware of everyone's eyes on me as I square up to the boy. He pushes Ava behind him and into a table, which she collides into with a crash. He didn't do that to keep her safe, he did that to hurt her.

"A freak. Isn't it obvious? You did just shout out your brother's name and have some sort of spasm, didn't you? Or am I the crazy one?" I can hear the smirk in his tone, and before I know it I've punched him. Not hard enough to cause any serious damage, but he reels back, clutching his nose and wailing. But I see something no one else does.

Hidden behind the noise he's making is a distinctly feminine cry. It's Ava, and she's bleeding.

Teachers crowd around and pull me back, and soon I'm held back and dragged away, while people mill over to the unhappy couple. I see the girl, trying to get over to me but being pulled backwards by the boy.

"It's Jim, by the way... Jim Moriarty!" He shouts after me, and I strain to reply when the door is slammed shut in my face.

\--- --- --- --- ---

After an hour of threatening to call my parents and being given numerous detentions, I am sitting outside the headmaster's office only to be greeted by my brother. Maybe I'll punch somebody else today.

"What were you thinking, Sherlock Holmes?" His Head Boy badge gleams on his chest and he towers in front of me, bristling with fury.

"Well, I was deducing, actually-"

"Don't try to be smart, Sherlock, it doesn't work. You know you're stupid."

"So, what did you figure out about them?" I know the only way to calm him down is to present him with a problem, and it seems to work.

"The boy's a troublemaker, likes to 'play a game'. He's spoiled but doesn't like being presentable so ruins his uniform enough to make himself fit in with the crowd. He's not sporty but his father wants him to be due to the hand-me-down phone case in his right pocket. That's everything."

"What about the girl?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"Nix, nada, no."

"Why?"

"Brother, dear, please try to struggle through your stupidity and understand..."

"Mycroft."

"She's like us." Before I can ask anything else he strides down the corridor, holding his head high and making me throw up. Why does he always have to make everything so complicat-

She's like us. Us. She's smart, intelligent, maybe even a genius. But there's one thing that Mycroft didn't pick up.

She may be a sociopath.

But she can feel.

 

**Ava’s POV**

“Why don’t you trust me, Ava? I can’t see any valid reas-”

“Because you threatened my parents to let me come here with you, force me to act like I enjoy this twisted little relationship you’ve made up and actually enjoy hurting me when I try to show compassion.”

“Well, there is that, but can you really blame it all on me? I mean, it’s not my fault that your brother is obsessed with me… I am flattered, but not interested, by the way.” Jim’s hit a nerve, but I won’t let him see it. Never.

“I know all about the Holmes family. So do you. Stop trying to act clever when you know everything you’re saying is pure fact.” He smirks at my sarcasm, and turns back, straightening his blazer and pulling out his mobile.

“Hey, Seb. Your sister’s acting up again, is it possible you could kill mummy and daddy? Ok, thanks, b-”

“No.” I try to keep my voice level, but it rises with panic and I find myself shouting the last few words. I can’t let him hurt them any more.

“Oh, she’s getting fiery! You know what? Keep them alive, I don’t want to bore myself to death… Bye!” I stifle a sigh of relief as he turns back to me with that sick grin plastered across his features, “You’re still standing up for them, huh? Of course, I would never do that, my family are dead… They’re better that way, it stopped them from inflicting their opinion on the world…”

“Just stop it.” My voice wavers and I fight to keep it level.

“Oh, no, that would ruin the fun!” He stands in front of me, still smiling, and before I know it I’ve punched him in the face.

“Oh! I don’t think I’ll hurt your parents this time, no… I’ll hurt you instead!” Before I can react he’s grabbed my wrist and is twisting it, making me scream and claw at him with my free hand. I hear a crack and a spasm of pain jolts through my body, and then he lets go.

“That was fun! You stay in here, I’m going to talk to your dear brother…” He skips away to the door, but before he close it he looks back at me, “And Ava? Don’t ever think of standing in my way. Ever.”

 

**Sherlock’s POV**

I had taken to turning up to everything just hoping that she would be there. I’d started joining every club I could to figure out where she would be. I didn’t know what this emotion I was feeling was, but it was strange. I liked it.

I’d almost given up all hope when I found her in the library.

She was halfway through ‘The Great Gatsby’, and didn’t even notice me. But before I spoke I saw something. She was obviously right handed, but not using her right arm at all. I looked it up and down and saw that her wrist was limp. Moriarty had done it.

“Hi.” I felt myself blush as she looked up from her book and smiled at me, inviting me to join her at the table.

“Hi.”

“I see you’re reading Gatsby.”

“Yeah, it’s my favourite book.” I found myself storing that in my mind palace, in an almost empty room. Had my mind subconsciously developed a room just for her?

“Oh, really? I prefer ‘The Catcher In The Rye’ myself…” What am I doing? What am I doing? What am I doing?

“That’s a good one too.” We both looked away from each other, and I tried to force the heat from my cheeks mentally, “So, how’s your brother?”

“I don’t really talk to him much…”

“I guessed… Have you read ‘Pride and Prejudice’?”

“No…

“You should…”

“You know what? I think I will.” I got up and started fumbling around the shelves, making her laugh. She stood up behind me and led me to some shelves. She pulled me forward and I was suddenly aware of how close we were. I started cataloging her scent, her hair colour, her eye colour…

And that’s when I figured out that she’d turned around.

I couldn’t stop staring at her, couldn’t break eye contact.

And that’s when we kissed.

\--- --- --- --- ---  

Our ‘affair’ went on for three months, and I loved her. I think she loved me too. And then that day came…

We were lying on my bed, fully clothed, just thinking. I’d already put everything about her into my mind palace, and she had put me into hers. We found ourselves reading to each other, and whenever she could get away from Jim (which was quite a lot of time, considering the fact that he wasn’t too occupied), she would read me ‘Pride and Prejudice’. When she was reading it I figured something out. She adored this book, but not as much as Gatsby. Whenever I said anything from that book she would go into a trancelike state, and that was one of my favourite things about her. She was beautiful.

We were staring at each other when my roommate came in. A slimeball of a boy named Phillip Anderson who had hated me for years, and who still hates me now. He’d seen us, and thinking that it would just get me into an argument, told Jim Moriarty.

The next morning, she was gone.

I ran to the reception, glistening with sweat as I rambled on.

“Where is she?”

“Where’s who, dear?”

“Ava. Ava Ostrovsky.”

“Oh, honey, she left last night, went back to Ireland with that lovely boy, Jim. Emergency, apparently her parents had died. The poor thing was in pieces. She carried on saying something, actually… Sherlock… No idea what it means…”

That’s when I lost everything.

And that’s how she disappeared.

 

 


	6. Chapter Six

**Chapter Six**

**John’s POV**

Going back to 221B was an awkward affair. Mary had taken Emily back, accusing me of traumatising her, and Sherlock’s revelation still haunted me. I couldn’t be around Ava for too long because I’d just start thinking about what happened to her, and I think she’d noticed how I left my hand on her shoulder a little too long than was socially acceptable. Sherlock had noticed too, and had thrown quite a few hissy fits when she’d left the room. Life was hell.

“This game is completely illogical.” I watched Ava turn back to Molly, who was laughing her head off. She looks really cute when she laughs… God, John, what the hell are you thinking? No. No. Not going to happen, Watson, so stop torturing yourself.

“It’s supposed to be, now shut up and battle.”

“You do it!”

“No! Do it yourself!” Ava throws the games console at Molly and she just manages to catch it, narrowly missing the table. She straightens up and thrusts it into the frowning girl’s hands.

“No. Sherlock’s here.”

I’m just about to answer when the same man bursts through the door, closely followed by Mycroft.

“You know it’s dangerous, Sherlock, I really don’t see the point in ruining everything just because of a note-”

“Hello, Mycroft.” Ava butts in, sliding across the armchair so Sherlock can join her. They’ve taken to doing this recently, now they’re a ‘couple’. It’s frankly disturbing.

“Hello, Ava.” He replies stiffly, looking away when his brother drapes an arm around her shoulders.

“You probably already know what it is.” Sherlock turns towards her, not even having to prompt Molly to leave. I follow her out of the door, shadowing her downstairs and closing the door behind us. She starts walking down the street but I tap her on the shoulder, slowing her down.

“Oh, hi.” She perks up when she sees me, and I can’t help but blush.

“Hi.” I pause awkwardly, “Sorry, but I’ve been kicked out too, I was just wondering if you’d… if you’d like to go for a coffee?” Damn it, John, shut up!

“Sorry, I have to get back to the morgue, but maybe some other time?”

“Okay, then…”

“Bye!”

“Bye.”

I stare at her retreating back and slowly make my way into Speedy’s. I must sit there for about two hours before I see Sherlock and Ava, running towards a taxi and jumping in. I sprint out and jump into the next one, following them. They’re up to something.

 

**Sherlock’s POV**

We spend the drive in silence, both of us thinking. I glance at her reflection a couple of times in the wind mirror, but considering what we’re about to do she doesn’t look too scared. I guess that’s good. She actually looks happy. The cab driver attempts to make conversation a few times, but we ignore him and soon he gives up, turning on the radio. It’s not until the end of the drive that she slides the partition shut and talks to me.

“I have a song for you.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I want you to listen to it, everyday.”

“Well, I’ve got you to make me-”

“Just… listen to it, okay?” Her tone sounds stressed, but before I can ask her the car stops and I clamber out, running straight up to the Natural History Museum. She follows, and we push open the doors. Too many tourists. We’ve got to do what he wants.

“Upstairs.” I follow her and we burst into the Philosophy exhibit, acting like normal people. Which is hard. I try to hold her hand, but she moans and pulls away. Why?

“Hello.” Moriarty is standing next to her, looking straight at me.

“Hi.”

“Give it to me, then.” I hand over Mycroft’s laptop and he grabs it greedily. He tucks it under his coat and turns back to the statues of Plato, “I assume she told you.”

“Told me what?”

“That I’m with Jim.” Ava turns to look at me, and I scan them to find that they’re holding each other. Her eyes look petrified, probably of me. Oh my God.

“What?”

“Sorry, Sherlock. You’ve got to admit I’m sexier.” I have to resist the urge to punch Moriarty in the face. What?

“So you lied… The whole time…” I struggle to keep my voice lowered.

“I’m sorry, Sherlock… I had to…” Silent tears stream down her face and I walk out, seeing them in the glass reflection.

I loved her…

**Ava’s POV**

“Are you letting him go?” I spin to face Jim, breaking free of his grip around my waist. Disgusting.

“I don’t know, maybe.”

“What else do I need to do?”

“Oh, I just need some assistance…”

“What?”

“I want you to kill Sherlock Holmes.”

“No.” Never.

“Okay, then.” He turns around and pulls out his phone, dialling, “Hello, Irene! Yep, she did it. Okay, well while you’re at it, could you kill dear Sebastian? Okay then, bye.”

“You know that won’t hurt me. He’s already dead in my eyes.”

“But what else can? Oh yes, misleading your little boyfriend. That’ll work…”

“You can’t do that.”

“Oh, sorry! Congratulations!” At the blank look on my face, he smirks and walks up to me, “Oh, come on! You really haven’t realised?”

“What?”

“I really hope your little baby isn’t as stupid as you… Yep, you’re pregnant! Kinda ruined it, didn’t I? Oh well…”

My jaw drops.

What?

“You really are an idiot, aren’t you? Come on, we need to get out of here or we’ll all die.”

“What do you mean?”

“Boom!”

 

 


	7. Chapter Seven

**Chapter Seven**

**John’s POV**

After deciding not to go looking round a whole museum just to find two people, I started to make my way home. Walking will be better for me, I think, and start plodding down the pavement. Halfway down the road my phone rings, and I check the caller ID to find that it’s Greg. I answer but before I can greet him he starts talking, his voice echoing down the receiver.

“John, what’s happened to Sherlock?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I think I deserve an explanation of why he just burst into my office and ransacked it for a case. Is that girl still with him?”

“Ava? I think so.”

“Could you come and get him? He’s being annoying.” In the background I can hear crashing and Sherlock’s voice mumbling two words: find case, “And Donovan’s started taking photos.”

“Greg, he’s not my son.”

“Are you sure about that? Oh, come on, please?”

“Fine, I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

“Hurry. He just tipped over my desk.

Sherlock’s POV

“Case.” My mind is all jumbled up. I don’t understand. I just want to die.

“Okay, Sherlock. Calm down, John’s coming.” John. He’ll know, he deals with this stuff. Wait, what stuff? I whack myself on the head in my panic and try to think. I need to think.

The periodic number for Neon is- But she betrayed me

No.

The two forces of a magnet are positive and- But I loved her.

No.

Our sofa is- Ava.

“No!” I claw at my head, only half-seeing John walk in and cross over to me. He looks worried and scared. Like she looked.

“Sherlock. Sherlock! Calm down! It’s okay.” He tries to comfort me, but it’s not working. I want to die. I want to die. I want to die.

“Sherlock, dear, are you okay?” A woman’s voice echoes from the doorway. I spin around and see her.

“Iren-” Before I can finish Lestrade starts blabbering on, something about developing photos, and The Woman puts a finger to her lips, smirking. I don’t know.

“Sherlock, this is our new police officer, Miss Adler.”

“Hang on, isn’t that-” John starts talking, but I interrupt him, not in control of what I’m doing.

“No. One second.” I scramble to my feet, walking out of the room in a daze.

“Hello again, honey.”

“Why are you here?”

“I told you I’d have you. Now’s the time.”

 

**Ava’s POV**

I just hope he listened to the song. If he hasn’t, he won’t understand. And if he doesn’t understand, he won’t win. I know he’d hate himself if he found out.

You never really understood, Sherlock. I’m here being driven insane and you think it’s by choice? It’s for you.

I just want to tell him one more time. One more thing.

Oh, and Sherlock. There’s only one thing you need to get.

My favourite book used to be Gatsby.

You changed it.

Help me, Sherlock.

Help the three of us.

Don’t do it, darling.

Please.

Oh, and it’s a boy, by the way. A beautiful baby boy. I don’t know what the world will be like in six months, but I don’t want him to live in it unless he has you.

I love you.

 

**Moriarty’s POV**

It’s easy, really, when you think about my plan.

I don’t think John Watson’s stupid little ex-wife thought that when she died. It was funny, really, watching the surprise on her face. And grabbing her daughter was even easier. I mean, a plan always has two sides.

They both have someone they would die for, and the candle’s burning at both ends. Soon there’ll be none left, and I’ll have to wave goodbye to the other players.

I guess they couldn’t handle the game.

 

 

 


	8. Chapter Eight

**Chapter Eight**

**Sherlock’s POV**

I wake up, expecting to see at least one of them next to me. Ava or Irene. Irene or Ava. I don’t know.

I find the bed empty, and no trace of The Woman ever being here. Except her perfume. Clair de la Lune.

I want Ava back. Please.

 

**Ava’s POV**

**My mind is broken.**

I hear the clink of the door opening and turn to face the intruder with soulless eyes. I expect it to be Moriarty, coming back to update me on just how crazy the love of my life was going. It’s not.

It’s my brother.

“Hi again.”

“You’re dead.”

“Nope.”

“Okay.”

“I got you a cellmate.” He pushes someone into the room. A child. Emily.

“She’s four.”

“I know. She started young.” He tries to make a joke, but he chokes mid-sentence when he sees my face. I can see it in his eyes. A memory.

We’re running around, playing tag. Seb grabs me from behind and swings me around, taking advantage of our five year gap. I start squealing, and look down to find a boy beating my brother’s legs, trying to save me. His dark curls frame his face and he’s wearing a pirate hat-

“You know, you’re different now.” He says, leaning onto his left leg.

“Great job, Captain Obvious. You sold me to a murderer, Sebastian, of course I’m different!”

“I’m sorry.”

“No you’re not. Just go back to being dead.”

“Okay.”

And then he fades away.

 

**Mycroft’s POV**

My tea covers the table as I fumble around it for information. Anything. I know her. I do.

Anthea is in the library, looking at everything I needed her to. She looks scared that her boss is going crazy. Just like his brother.

My hands grasp another sheet and I scan it, looking for anything. It turns out to be a banking statement, and I angrily throw it to the floor before flicking through the others.

Why can’t I find her?

 

**John’s POV**

It’s been three months since Ava was taken by Moriarty. Three months since the Natural History Museum was reduced to smithereens. Three months since the Sherlock I used to know turned into a statue. An ice cold statue.

“Do you want me to go and get the shopping?” I ask, staring anxiously at him from the kitchen. He’s flung himself across his armchair, and is looking at the wall. Normal for him.

“Do you want to?”

“Do you want me to?”

“Do you-”

“I’m going to get them.”

“Don’t bump into Moriarty on the way. You might do what she did.” He refers to her as she now. It’s worrying.

“Sherlock, stop it.” I almost moan, sitting back on the sofa and looking over at him. Jesus, he’s beautiful.

“Why should I?” His voice flows like honey, and I suddenly want to kiss him.

I’ve been feeling like this since the explosion. At first I was confused, but now I’ve come to terms with the fact that I’m bisexual. I mean, it was obvious. I love the only man who’s incapable of feelings. Great job, John.

“Because it’s annoying.”

“Why?”

“Sherlock-”

“John?”

I get up and storm over leaning right over him. He looks creeped out, and just as I’m about to scream at him, I stop. His eyes are beautiful. Everything’s beautiful.

And then I kiss him.

 

**Ava’s POV**

He hasn’t listened to it, has he?

I knew it.

Life is hell.

I’m made presentable, but only for Jim. For him to use me. In ways that disgust me.

Emily cries for her father. I cry for everyone. My brother. My father. My mother. Sherlock.

I just want everything back. Is that too much to ask?

 

**Mycroft’s POV**

I burst through the door, ignoring Mrs Hudson and making my way upstairs. I find Sherlock and John sitting unusually close, but I’m not making any deductions. I just can’t believe what I’ve found.

“Mycroft.”

“Sherlock. I know.”

“Know what?”

“Who Ava really is.”

“Why would I want to know that? She’s a traitor.”

“No, she’s not. You remember the Morans?”

“Yes.”

“Her name’s not Ava. It’s Grace. Grace Moran.”

 

 


	9. Chapter Nine

**Chapter Nine**

**Sherlock’s POV**

_“Sherlock, sit down.” My mother snaps, pushing me back onto the kitchen chair and sliding my jam sandwiches across the table. I sulk, pushing my chin into my chest and folding my arms. Mycroft sniggers from across the table and puts the newspaper in front of his face._

_From outside I can hear our neighbours running around, playing tag while their parents watch with a waiting picnic. I sometimes wish that they were my family. Sometimes I think they are._

_The ring of the doorbell breaks my chain of thought, and Mycroft goes to get it, leaving me to wince away from eye contact with Mummy. I hear his greeting, and then a girl’s voice. Mycroft then comes back in, whispers some words in mother’s ear and beckons me to follow him._

_“Hi, Sherlock!” Grace’s smile beams at me, and she twists one of her plaits round her finger, obviously jumping with excitement._

_“Brother, mine; we have been invited round to the Moran’s.” My brother stares at the dark-haired girl, pushing me forward._

_“Okay.” Before I am ferried out of the door I reach back for my pirate hat, jamming it firmly onto my head. Mycroft sighs but lets me take it, not wanting to cause a scene. We traipse round to their back garden, and Grace immediately runs to her brother. I watch him pick her up and place her on his shoulders. I wish my brother was like that._

_“Hello, dears.” Mrs Moran greets us warmly, wafting the scent of freshly baked bread towards us. Her husband sits in the background, relaxing into a deck chair and laughing at his children. He waves towards us, and I see Mycroft retreat to the corner. He may be eleven, but he’s certainly not the fun type._

_“Oi! Sherlock! I’ve kidnapped her!” Sebastian calls over, holding Grace upside down so that her dress covers her eyes. If Mummy was here I would refrain from playing with what she calls riff-raff, but I want to enjoy myself._

 

**Mycroft’s POV**

_You have no idea how much I want to join them. I would, but discipline has been drilled into me ever since Sherlock was declared the youngest and subsequent troublemaker. He runs over, pummeling Sebastian’s legs while Grace attacks her brother’s chest. Their parents lounge in the corner, offering me lemonade. I accept, not wanting to be rude, and sip it while I watch the happiness that I will never experience._

_I scan the garden, taking in all of the flowers and close cut hedges. Sherlock runs across my line of vision, and I have just enough time to process that before Sebastian and Grace follow, screaming and laughing._

_“Mycroft, why don’t you join in?” Mr Moran looks up at me from his chair, wildly gesturing with his glass._

_“No, I’m afraid I don’t like to associate with such rabble…”_

_“Hang on for a second, mate-”_

_“Dear, why don’t you go and help Sherlock while Mycroft comes to get those books I was going to lend him?” Mrs Moran interrupts, and her husband is just about to argue when she gives him a pointed look and leads me into their kitchen, “There aren’t many, but I thought you’d like to have a look at this one.” She hands back an old and battered version of ‘War and Peace’. I hold it in my arms while she steps down from the stool she used to reach it._

_“I don’t believe I’ve read this one…”_

_“Oh, it’s brilliant. I think you’ll love it, a clever boy such as yourself…” I blush at her kind words and am just about to thank her when Grace runs in, holding a cupcake in one hand._

_“This is for you, Mycroft!” For her age her pronunciation is very good, almost as good as Sherlock’s. I blush an even darker shade of red and take the cake, balancing it on top of the volume as I am hurried back into the garden. Everyone is running around, and I settle down next to Mrs Moran to read the thick and faded novel._

_That was the beginning of the worst friendship ever._

**Eight years later…**

**Sebastian’s POV**

_“So, are you going to do this, Seb, or am I going to have to explain further?” Jim prowled about the room like a cat, turning to face me._

_“Y-yes.” He may have mistaken my stutter for fear, but it was in pure adoration. I was in awe of him._

_“Good. Let’s go outside, then.” He led me out into my back garden, his eyes immediately falling to my sister. He appraised her body, his mouth curled into a tight-lipped smile as he sat down next to my mother._

_“Did you find the bathroom, Jim?” He had made up a false pretense of needing the toilet, and excused himself so we could go over the plan one more time. For the last time._

_“Yes, m’am.”_

_“I’ve told you, dear, call me Louisa.” She smiled at him, clasping hands with my father._

_“Mum, where’s my book?” Grace’s voice flowed through the air as Jim reached into his pocket. I mirrored his actions._

_“I think I put it in the kitchen, I’ll go and grab-” Just as mother stood up she felt the cold barrel of a gun pressed against her temple. My father felt the same. My sister didn’t realise, she was stretched out on the sunbed._

_“So you wanted to get to know me.” Jim presses the gun further into mother’s head, making her whimper, “Well, I’m a consulting criminal, and someone has asked me to take away your lovely little daughter.”_

_Grace turns back to see what’s happening and almost screams. She’s smart, though, and manages to stop herself before Jim has a chance to pull the trigger._

_“Oh! You’re probably wondering who that client is, aren’t you Gracie? It’s me!” The boy snarls, slowly moving back from my mother. My sister tries to run but his vice-like grip fastens around her waist, and she can’t move. “Well, we’ll be going now… But know that if you ever breathe a word of this to anyone, all of you are dead.”_

_Jim backs out of the garden, dragging Grace along with him, and then my whole family fell apart._

 

**Mycroft’s POV**

_“It’s terrible, just terrible…” My mother rubbed soothing circles on the back of Mrs Moran’s back as she sobbed. Sherlock had gone up to his room as soon as he had heard, and greenish puffs of smoke emitted from there every few seconds. The two men were standing outside, puffing cigarettes. Sebastian had supposedly been too upset to come over. It didn’t affect me at all._

_The only reason I wasn’t surprised when the Morans came round talking about the death of their daughter was that I watched it all from my bedroom window._


	10. Chapter Ten

**Chapter Ten**

**John’s POV**

As soon as Sherlock hears the name he grabs my hand, squeezing it while his eyes dart around the room. Mycroft looks just as scared, and when Sherlock leaps up he follows. I’m dragged out of the flat with the older Holmes following.

“Taxi!” I expect Mycroft to grumble at the choice of transport, but he seems unable to speak. We all sidle in, Sherlock leaning over to the cab driver, “You know where, Sebastian.” I’m just about to apologise to the driver when he grins and pulls away. What the hell is happening?

“Thought you’d recognise me.” The man in front grins largely and steps on the pedal, helping us shoot through the London traffic.

“Thought you were dead.” Sherlock mumbles.

“Do you really think that Jim would get rid of his dominatrix?”

“Bloody hell…” I can’t help but say it out loud. Something is seriously weird.

“No, just thought you’d gone for a nice holiday…” Sherlock replies.

“You won’t win, Sherlock, you must know that.” Sebastian laughs, clearing the other cars as though we were made of mist.

“I’m just a bit ignorant on that fact.”

Mycroft was still white as a sheet, and spent the whole drive like that. We got out at a recently closed factory, and were led inside by the cab driver, who obviously didn’t expect us to leave alive.

We entered a room full of machinery with narrow passageways between each machine. We weaved in between these, and came to a big clearing in the middle where Moriarty waited, his face contorted into a gleeful smile.

“Hi, guys! How nice to see you here!” His Irish accent may have made it sound friendly, but we all knew it was nothing but evil, “She lost the baby, by the way…” At his Sherlock stops in his tracks, paling considerably more as his grip loosened on his gun and it clattered to the floor.

“What?”

“You’re just like her, you know… Stupid…”

“Give her back.” The detective tried to stop his voice from cracking but failed.

“Oh, is this a family feud?”

“Wait, what do you mean?” I answer for him.

“Well, Irene, can you bring her out? I need some entertainment…” The opening of a door is followed by footsteps, ending with the appearance of The Woman and Ava. The latter has been beaten to a pulp, but still tries to support herself. A gash in the side of her top reveals a faded scar, and I can see clearly marked handprints round her neck. Jesus.

“Oh my God…” She coughs, and blood spatters the floor.

“So, have you listened to the song?” Jim asks, patting her on the shoulder and obviously hitting a bruise.

“No…” Sherlock seems to pale even more as he chokes out an answer.

“I wasn’t talking to you, dear. I was talking to your brother.” Moriarty laughs and turns to face Mycroft.

“Yes.” The man gulps, and his voice sounds throaty.

“Oh, good. So you’ll know what has to happen.”

“Leave you alone.”

“Very good! ‘Oh, the castle’s under siege, but the sign outside says ‘Leave me alone’. Brilliant, Holmes!” Jim claps sarcastically.

“We will. You just need to fulfil your part of the bargain.”

“Fine. Off you pop, then.” He turns around and walks off, “Bye!”

Ava falls to the floor and both of the Holmes look at her, but Mycroft reacts faster and runs over.

 

**Sherlock’s POV**

Before I know it I’ve stormed over and yanked my brother up, dishevelling his already rumpled suit. He’s sweating, and I hate him.

“What the hell was that, Mycroft?”

“Sherlock…”

“Tell me.”

“Brother, mine-” I flip him round into a nearby machine, digging my knee into his leg and making him cry out.

“Don’t you dare say that to me.”

“Sherlock, stop it.” John puts a hand on my shoulder, and I release my brother, anger bubbling up inside me.

“Think,” Ava whispers, trying to go over to Mycroft but obviously in too much pain from her broken leg. I do what she says.

I think.

The elongated eye contact. Her sudden realisations that he’s there. The secret glances. The awkwardness when they were alone. How she didn’t mind him. How she never said my name when she said I love you.

I’ve been stupid.

 

**Ava’s POV**

I’m so sorry…

Sherlock, all you needed to do was think…

You shouldn’t have found me…

Mycroft…

I’m sorry…

I am the master of my fate

I am the captain of my soul

 

 


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Chapter Eleven**

**Ava’s POV**

“John…” I mumble, trying to get the doctor’s attention. Sherlock’s crouching in the corner, muttering to himself. Mycroft lies where his brother dropped him, rubbing his arm.

“What’s up?” I can see that the detective’s room mate is trying to sound kind, but there is a note of hostility in his voice.

“Emily… She’s in there…” All of the feelings disappear from his expression and he runs back to the room where I’d been kept prisoner for months. Sherlock doesn’t notice.

“Why?” The youngest Holmes looks up at me, his eyes wide and pleading. I gather as much breath as I can and speak.

“Mycroft saw it happen. You thought I was dead. He found me.” The older man shares a look with me, “When he was at 221B, when I came back, we discussed our plan. The plan that would finally help us catch Moriarty. The plan that got him into a police car outside.”

Sherlock looks shocked and stares at me, hurt and betrayal filling those deep pools. John stumbles back in, carrying his daughter.

“She’s not injured, I made sure of that,” I call over to him, and he tries to stop from showing gratitude when Sherlock stands up, walking out of the warehouse. The doctor follows, and I am left alone with the love of my life.

 

**Nine Months Later…**

**Sherlock’s POV**

I change into my suit, frowning. I don’t like this. I don’t like it at all.

John walks in, already clad in his clothes, and finishes a text. No doubt asking Ava how Emily is. Even he’s happier than me today.

“Come on, Sherly! It starts in three hours, get your trousers on!”

“Don’t call me that.” He can see that I’m even more gloomy than usual, and grabs my hand. I pull it away and before he can show his face his phone buzzes. He leaves our bedroom and I get fully dressed, snapping my bowtie back onto my neck. I hate everyone.

“Lestrade’s here!” John shouts and I grab my coat, pulling it on as I walk down the stairs. I climb into the car, followed by John, and try to ignore Greg’s attempts at ‘chit-chat’.

“So, what do you think’s going to happen?”

“Nothing…”

**Ava’s POV**

Mrs Hudson fusses around the hem of my dress, brushing away the miniscule particles of dust my train has collected from the floor. My chief bridesmaid, Molly, straightens the flower on Emily’s dress, and the other three are staring at the cake. Typical.

“Ave, would anyone really notice if we just took off some icing?” Annie mumbles, reaching a finger towards the bottom layer.

“Yeah, we could cover it up with… um…” Hannah is lost for words.

“A spontaneously placed flower!” Keerat pulls a flower from my bouquet and demonstrates her idea.

“No.” I shout to her, receiving loud groans from the three assembled friends. I met them at work with Mycroft, and they seem to enjoy being friends with me. Molly doesn’t like them, still saying that they irritate her to no end, but I think they’re funny. Sort of.

“Auntie Ava?” Molly looks imploringly up at me and I crane my neck around Mrs Hudson to look at the girl.

“Yes, Em?”

“Why are you marrying Uncle Mycroft?” Everyone stifles giggles at her question, and I try to refrain from being patronising.

“Because I love him, sweetie.”

“No, you don’t, you love Uncle Sherlock.” She says stubbornly, and everyone stops what they’re doing. How am I supposed to answer that?

“Emily, why don’t you help me with the flowers?” Hannah steps in, quite possibly saving my life, and my niece runs off to the bouquets.

“What time is John getting here?” Keerat asks, referring to my ‘father-of-the-bride’ standee.

“He’s getting here in about ten minutes, and then we need to get down to the church. He has to drop Sherlock off with Mycroft first.” I explain, sighing when I get to the eldest Holmes’ choice of best man. Actually, it was his father’s choice, but I’ve decided to blame my husband-to-be if he ends up in hospital on our wedding day.

“Annie, what are you doing?” Molly asks, and all eyes turn to my fifth bridesmaid.

“Umm… Nothing?” She mumbles, sucking icing off of her fingers. I will have to slap her later.

“Oh, he’s early!” Mrs Hudson jumps up at the bell and opens the door. John greets her and walks in, smiling at me.

“You look beautiful.” He grins and we hug, with him holding on just a fraction too long. Long enough to smell Sherlock’s deodorant. I pull away and shake it off, turning to everyone else.

“Shall we go, then?” I clap my hands, and every crowds out the door. I almost expect Emily to jump up to her dad, but she stops herself, remembering that we told her to be very careful with her dress.

Annie, Hannah, Keerat, Mrs Hudson and Emily go in one car while me. John and Molly go in the other. The cab driver is silent the whole way there, probably on Mycroft’s orders, so I am almost lulled to sleep on the drive. When Molly wakes me up, I’m actually happy.

The Holmes’ brothers may not feel, but they can teach someone how to.

 

**Sherlock’s POV**

I am seated on the front row, next to my parents and the empty seats where the bridesmaids will sit. My brother stands in front, smiling more than I’ve ever seen him. My mother bristles with excitement while my father hums along to the wedding march. I couldn’t be more repulsed if I tried.

The organ strikes up and everyone turns except me. To be honest, I can’t be bothered. My mother grabs my arm and turns me around too, and I am forced to watch the procession.

Emily comes in first, holding Mrs Hudson’s hand and throwing petals. They are closely followed by Annie, Hannah and Keerat, Annie still with a smudge of icing on her cheek. Next comes Molly, smiling but stressed, and the instrument reaches a crescendo as Ava and John walk in.

Everyone takes a collective breath as she walks in, and I hear Mrs Hudson start to cry next to me. She looks beautiful. The lace trimming the bottom of the gown, the buttons leading up the back. I can’t help but feel a pang of jealousy. Why Mycroft?

John leads her up to Mycroft, both of the couple blushing furiously. Mycroft has gone tomato red, and is grinning like a maniac. Seriously, him? They stand facing one another and the vicar starts talking.

All I’m thinking through the whole service is no.

No.

 

**Ava’s POV**

“I now pronounce you Mr and Mrs Holmes. You may kiss the bride.” We delay what will inevitably come by just smiling at each other, feeling very awkward. We just stand there, staring.

“Oh, for God’s sake, Mycroft, kiss her or I’ll do it myself!” Sherlock shouts, and I feel a hand on the small of my back just before we seal our marriage. We pull apart and I can hear the older Mrs Holmes crying, her husband comforting her. I can’t stop smiling and use my husband for support as I can’t hold myself up. My eyes scan the crowd, and my gaze rests on Sherlock. He’s clapping. I guess he’s gotten over it.

“I love you…” Mycroft mumbles in my ear before people can come over to congratulate us. We fall into a clumsy embrace and I rest my head on his shoulder.

“I love you too…”

 

 


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Chapter Twelve**

**Ava's POV**

I hold onto Mycroft's arm, trying to walk across the muddy landscape without decapitating myself. He has offered many times to put his coat down for me, but I've refused. He'd just have to get it cleaned, and that would bring on a lot of trouble. His parents walk along behind us, his mother still sobbing, and Sherlock and John follow. I can see the doctor trying to be romantic, but Sherlock's eyes have gone cloudy, and I know that he won't be speaking until his speech.

"It's just so strange, seeing my little boy growing up-" Mycroft's mother cries, and we all laugh at Mycroft's reddening face. We all trample the sodden grass until we finally reach the house, which my husband had ordered for our reception. Everyone else was already there, and we slid in to a great uproar.

"You look beautiful, Ave!" Annie stumbles over to me, drunk already. I let her hold onto me until Hannah runs over, apologising and leading her friend to the tables. I pull my high heels off and carry them over to the top table, avoiding the already intoxicated people as Mycroft tries to restrain his anger. He wants this to be perfect. It’s quite obviously not enough for him, but it is for me.

“Come on, I want to see Sherlock try to get everyone’s attention!” He laughs at my comment and I drag him to our seats. Sherlock taps his glass, and the sober people manage to pull the stragglers to their designated seats. Annie starts sliding sideways but Keerat stops her before the table can collapse. Everyone is silent.

“Hi,” Sherlock mumbles, accidentally dropping to microphone and all of his cards. I guess John must have helped him with this. It’s not going to end well. “We are gathered here today-” John tugs at his lapel.

“Sherlock, that’s the vicar,” Everyone laughs, and the detective grumbles before carrying on.

“When Mycroft asked me to be best man, I was annoyed. I may have even punched him. That’s because I only like one of the people in this relationship, and that would have to be Grace.” The crowd start to mutter, and Mycroft and I glare at the taller Holmes. We had retreated to the back of the church for the names ceremony, so everyone still knew me as Ava. Brilliant.

“Yes, that is her real name, I should know. Anyway, I first met Grace when I was four and Mycroft was eleven. Although he did act like he was fifty. He was a rubbish big brother.” The party start to laugh, and Mycroft hastily downs his drink, “And they were our neighbors. The Morans. Whose daughter supposedly died. Wrong. This is that girl now a wonderful woman, and I hate to admit it, but brother, you can have all of my action men for this lady.” I blush, and I start to tear up.

“Then, we met again at school. A whirlwind romance between us, and then he got her again. James Moriarty. I still hate him and I think my brother should too. Then I found her yet again, and I loved her. I hope she loved me. And then yet again she was taken. But this time it wasn’t from me…

“You see, my brother and her had a plan, and it worked. Well. It fooled me. Nine months later and here we are. Mycroft is the luckiest man in the world, quite undeservedly, but Grace is the happiest woman. And that’s all I wanted.” I can’t just sit and listen anymore, I get up and pull him into a hug. He lifts me up, allowing the height difference, and I hear a chorus of sighs. I rest my head on his shoulder and he smiles.

“Did I do it right?” He asks, chuckling slightly.

“Of course you did, you idiot!” We both burst out laughing and he lets me go, the eye contact holding just a little too long. I hurry back to my seat, wiping away my tears. I thought I was making the right decision. It couldn’t be possible that I love him again, could it?

 

**Sherlock’s POV**

John pulls me over to the dance floor as soon as the slow dance comes on. I don’t want to, but Ava’s doing it, so I’ll do want she wants. I just want her to be happy. Out of the corner of my eye I see Emily, jumping around and doing some kind of horrific little dance. I hope I don’t have to do that. I just let myself be lulled into the rhythm.

It comes for the time to swap dance partners, and I immediately go over to Ava. She chooses me out of the swarms of people and we sway side to side, mumbling.

“Are you okay?” She asks, the space between her eyebrows crinkled in worry.

“Yeah, I’m fine. You?”

“Sherlock, it’s my wedding, of course I’m okay!”

“Just wondering.”

“You don’t wonder.” She glares at me with stern grey eyes, and I find myself forced to give in.

“Are you sure it’s him?”

“No, Sherlock, we are not going to talk about this now.”

“Yes we are.”

“No we are not.”

“Yes w-”

“For God’s sake, Sherlock, no!” She breaks apart from me and runs off, telling Mycroft that she’s going to the bathroom.

There’s only one thing that’s on my mind.

She wasn’t sure.

 

**Ava’s POV**

I splash my face with cold water, trying to break myself out of this stupor.

What the hell is wrong with me?

“Grace, you are married, just quit it!” I say to myself, shivering as the water runs down my dress. I hear the door open and Annie walks in. She must have sobered up, because she’s not stumbling anymore.

“What’s up?” She asks, taking out a make up bag and re-doing her eyeliner.

“I don’t know…”

 

**Sherlock’s POV**

I sit on the side, watching John and Emily. This is my family now. No Ava, you’re not getting her back, just you, John and Emily.

I listen to the lyrics of the song, and find myself humming along to the tune.

And that was the day that I swore,

I’d never sing of love,

If it does not exist,

But darling you are the only exception…

It sounds just like me and Ava.

 

 


	13. Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen

Sherlock’s POV

“Grace and Mycroft will be here soon, Sherlock, get a shirt on!” John shouts from the kitchen. I sign, curling into a ball on the sofa.

“Why?” I mumble, but John hears and storms over.

“Because you need to look remotely presentable,”

“What for? Mycroft’s seen me bare-chested, Grace’s seen me bare-chested, you’ve seen me bare-chested. There is no point.” John’s blushes at my comment, but then goes back to complaining.

“Sherlock, ju-” The doorbell rings, emanating from the fridge, “Oh, they’re here! Shirt!” He flutters about before running down the stairs, greeting my brother. No, no shirt.

“Hi Sherlock!” Grace walks in and doesn’t take any notice of my partially dressed self, sitting down heavily in one of the armchairs. Mycroft follows and stands in the corner, glaring at me. I don’t think he’s gotten over me making her cry at their wedding. I honestly don’t care.

“Hello…” I mumble, taking one look at John’s exasperated face before turning back to her, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing…” She shares a meaningful look with my brother before turning to John, “How’s life at Barts?”

“Normal, really. Do you want some tea?”

“That would be lovely! I’ll come with you, I miss this place…” She pulls herself up, ignoring Mycroft’s hand and following John into the kitchen.

“Brother, dear, please put a shirt on.” My brother grumbles, throwing some material at me from the end of his umbrella. I wouldn’t normally do what he says, but causing an argument right in front of Grace would not be a good idea, so I pull it over my arms, buttoning it up as I speak.

“I believe I have some questions to ask you, Mycroft.” I glare at him, standing up so I  tower over him.

“Like what, Sherlock?”

“Who is that picture on your phone? Because it’s definitely not your wife.” My brother reacts to that, blood flushing his cheeks. He looks down just as John and Grace walk in, balancing mugs on their arms as they hand them out. Grace gives me mine, and I notice that it’s coffee. It’s brilliant. Just like her.

“Did you see the article on the hidden camera murder?” Grace asks, and I pull out the newspaper. It had been easy work, finished in five minutes.

“Yes. The murderer had used a model to give the fatal blows to, and then dragged in the real body. The killer was obviously a professional-”

“Wrong!” Mycroft interrupts me, “The killer was the woman’s ex-boyfriend. Having served in the-”

“You’re both wrong!” Grace jumps in last, “The cameras were injected into the lens in the eyeball and the victim was killed by stab wounds. The killer just happens to be our wedding photographer, whom I called and told that he had another job at our house while Mycroft was out. He just happened to be surprised by Lestrade and Donovan. Simple.”

She leaves us both dumbfounded, and John looks like he’s been watching Silent Witness. Grace sips at her tea, watching us all with a smile on her face.

“I think what they’re trying to say is wow!” The blogger mumbles in her ear, making her laugh. Just as she’s about to whisper back, her phone rings and she answers.

“Hi Molly! How are you?” Mycroft starts to regain speech, grumbling, “It was easy! I’m not explaining, it’ll be in the police report… Oh, really? Yeah, I’m with them now… No! Get off the phone, you slacker! Bye!” She presses the button just before I blurt out what I’ve been thinking for the last five minutes.

“That was bloody brilliant!”

“Just like me!” She laughs again, standing up to drag Mycroft to the sofa. He’s still dumbstruck, and lets her sit him down next to her.

“Is he okay?” John asks, waving a hand in front of my brother’s face.

“Yeah, he was like this when he lost at Cluedo.” I groan, and Grace nods in agreement.

“Shut up, Sherlock.” Mycroft coughs and brushes down his shirt.

“Anyway, shall we tell them?” Grace looks at my brother, and he nods, “It’s so hard to tell you! I’m just going to say it-”

“Before you tell everyone I think you should know-”

“Sherlock-”

“Mycroft has pictures of someone else…”

“Sherlock-”  
“On his phone a-”

“Well, I should hope so! Sherlock, dear, I’m pregnant!” She grabs Mycroft’s phone and holds it in front of me. A scan crowds my vision, and suddenly I feel dizzy.

What?

No.

She can’t be.

No.

No.

No.

No.

Dark spots cloud my vision, and I feel myself falling forwards. I’m jerked out of it by Grace’s voice, and find myself still perfectly upright. She’s talking to John, and he’s sitting across from her.

“Three months.”

“Oh my God! Is Sherlock okay?” He asks, craning his neck.

“I wouldn’t worry, Mycroft was like this when I told him.” They laugh and go back to talking.

“S-s-Sherlock.” I bark, making them both jump.

“What do you mean, honey?” Grace puts a hand on my shoulder, and I shake uncontrollably.

“I… It’s a girl’s name…” John laughs and everyone joins in, even Mycroft.

“He said the exact same to me about Emily!”

“How is Emily, anyway?” Grace asks, and John

“Good. At school, so as good as she can be…”

The time raced by, and I came back to life just as they were leaving.

“Congratulations!” John says, walking them out.

“John, you’ve said that fifteen times, please stop.” My brother groans, and I realise that Grace is still here. I jump out of my seat and run down the stairs, reaching the door just as Mycroft climbs into the car and his wife hugs John.

“Grace!” I sigh, walking over to hug her. She wraps her arms around my neck and smiles. I can feel the slight bump under her t-shirt. I can’t help but whimper quietly, not loud enough that she can hear.

“Are you still sure?” I mumble as she releases me.

“I think so.” She grins and waves, sliding into the car, and I can’t help but frown.

Why not me?


	14. Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen

Sherlock’s POV

It was a whole week after the birth when I got to see Grace. Mycroft had supposedly wanted to keep out any possible infections, and had probably heard that I’d had some particularly gruesome cases since they told me. On purpose, obviously. It took my mind off her for long enough.

“Sherlock, you need to be careful…” John fusses in the car Mycroft sent, brushing down my coat, “We cannot give this baby anything dangerous, especially,” He pulls my gun out of my waistband, “this.”

“Sure…” I grumble, stuffing my hands into my pockets while the surprisingly silent driver pulls over in front of my brother’s mansion. We climb out and walk up the gravel porch, knocking on the door with the straightened knocker.

“Hello, brother…” Mycroft answers, begrudgingly beckoning us inside. I start towards the staircase but the others go to the living room, so I follow.

“Sherlock!” Grace cries, beaming up at me. Her skin glows and her eyes sparkle as she reaches up to hug me. I accept it and become aware of the small lump in her arms. When I pull back I see a baby, swathed in light blue blankets and breathing deeply. Fast asleep. A warm spring of love bursts out of my cold heart.

“He’s beautiful…” I whisper, looking at her face. She looks so happy.

“I know. He’s perfect, aren’t you, Sherlock Jr?” At the child’s name I freeze, feeling a mixture of confusion and hope. Are they tricking me? Or is this Grace admitting that she still has feelings for me, no matter how small?

“Brother, I assure you that she chose the name.” Mycroft grumbles and John laughs, smiling down at the child. I force myself to smile, turning towards John. I slowly edge closer to him, making out that I’m only going to hold his hand, but I’m doing something a lot more important.

“Vatican cameos.” John registers the code and fear fills his eyes. An old army type of lingo, he of all people would understand it. Vatican cameos: Somebody’s going to die.

“I’m just going to take John to the kitchen. You two… do whatever…” I drag him into the next room, turning straight to him as soon as the door has been closed and holding onto his shoulders.

“Who?” He mumbles frantically.

“I don’t know, but Grace does.”

“What?”

“Calling him Sherlock Jr. That was her code. She knows what’s going to happen, and she knows we can’t stop it.”

“What do you mean, we can’t stop it?”

“She’s willing to do it…”

“What, Sherlock?”

I rack my brain. She must have told me. Somehow. Codes.

Anything…

Oh my God.

No.

“Sherlock, what is it?”

“She’s got to let it happen…”

“What?”

“Or it will be all of us…”

“What, Sherlock?”

“No…”

“What?!”

“She’s going to die.” I mumble and stand there, watching John register this. He looks confused and then daunted. He knows.

“Mycroft, can you go and change your son, I’ve done it the last four times…” Grace says and we watch Mycroft come in, holding the baby. I’m just about to stop him when I hear a gunshot.

“Grace!” I shout, running into to the room she was in and feeling all of the blood drain from my face. Grace…

No…

“Shot her in the head…” I hear the only voice that could get through to me.

Sebastian Moran.

“You…” I look up at him in the window.

“Yes, me. You knew it would lead to trouble if you tricked Jim, yet you did it. Now she’s dead, and I’m not going to do you the good grace of killing you. You can do that yourself.” I hear John and Mycroft trying to get through the closed door behind me, “Break her heart again.”

“She’s your sister, Moran.” I choke out. I didn’t realise I was crying.

“She was. Until she met you.”

“Just explain.”

“She loved you. From the very first moment she set eyes on you, she knew it was you. But she also knew that she had to die, and if she stayed with you that you’d be killed too. So she came up with an elaborate plan. Let Mycroft think that he was in charge. Marry him, have a child, pretty simple. And she knew that you’d do this.”

“What?”

“Oh, have I broken your brain? Just one more deduction, Sherly. Then I might even let you use my gun…”

“This was Moriarty. A way for me to kill myself. Using her.”

“Very good. Sorry, use your own gun, mine’s hired.” He walks over to me, kneeling next to me, “I guess you didn’t see everything, did you? Her ankle.”

I pull the material back and find a tattoo. A small bird, the picture made up of one word.

Goodbye.

“Just tell me one thing.” I’m desperate.

“Okay, then.”

“Why her?”

Why did it have to be her?

Why?

“Because she was smart.” With that he walks through the shattered window, and I’m left alone. I fumble in my pockets, looking for anything. The gun. John kept it in his coat pocket. I crawl over to the piece of clothing, grabbing at the cold metal.

“G-Grace, I’m s-sorry… I can’t live w-without you… You’re my first, my last, my everything…” I cough to steady myself, “And I love you… I love you so much… You know that, don’t you? I do, I really do… I’ll see you in heaven…”

I press the gun against my forehead, ready to die. I pull the trigger, and die with one word on my lips.

Grace.

 

 


	15. Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Fifteen  
Sherlock Jr’s POV  
“Don’t do anything stupid!” My dad shouts from behind closed doors in his office where he’s closed himself off for the last sixteen years.   
“I’ll try!” I slam the door, pulling my jacket around myself and setting off towards my mum. Her grave.  
I’ve never met her, but Uncle John tells me things about her. As soon as I mention her death he starts crying, and I feel too awkward to ask him anymore questions. I don’t think that he’s sad about her, though. I think he’s sad about the man lying next to her.  
Sherlock Holmes.  
My namesake and my father’s brother, he was ‘the bravest and greatest man I’ve ever known’ according to his headstone. I think John wrote that. From the research that I’ve done about him, he was the world’s only consulting detective, and very famous. I also found a very funny article about him and my uncle entitled ‘Hat-man and Robin’. They got it right that John is a confirmed bachelor.  
I swing through the gates, pulling out the rose that I bought for her. Red. From me and Dad. He doesn’t come to visit her anymore. Supposedly ‘too busy’. I know for a fact that all he does is sit in his office and drink away his sorrows.  
Mum’s grave sits on a lonely hill under an oak tree, only accompanied by Sherlock’s. I walk over and sit in front of it, not caring about the mud on my coat. I like being with her like this. It’s like she’s there next to me, listening to every word I say.  
“Hi, Mum. It’s just me again today, Dad was ‘too busy’... He’s falling apart, Mum, and I don’t know what to do. Aunty Molly brought round some food for me last night because she knew he wouldn’t be up to cooking. You died sixteen years ago today, Mum, and I wish I could have met you… I bet you were really cool, and Uncle John always tells me that you were always happy and that you went through a lot.”   
“Uncle John doesn’t like talking about the day you died… I don’t think it’s your fault, though, I think it’s the man lying next to you. I know you knew him, Mum, or Dad wouldn’t have let you be buried here. I asked him about why you were resting here, and he said it wasn’t his choice, it was yours. You chose to be buried here, so you have to had known him! I hope you having fun with him. Solving crimes…”  
“I got another detention at school for sneaking out at lunch yesterday. I came to see you, so it was hardly my fault. I miss you, Mum, we all do. Keerat, Annie and Hannah came round yesterday to give me your necklace, the one you wore for your wedding. I’ve got it here, actually, but I’m not going to take the chance of losing it. My teachers don’t seem to understand, and when I try to explain to them they just ignore me. I don’t think they realise that you’re still with me. You always will be…”  
“I think I’d better go now, Mum. I’ll come again tomorrow, and I might even get Dad to come. He probably won’t, but I can try… Bye Mum…” I pat the top of her gravestone and am just walking away when I see a piece of paper. It’s hidden under a rock behind her resting place and I turn back to pick it up, unfolding it. Curled handwriting loops across it and I sit next to the tree, reading it.  
To my son,  
Hello, darling. I told your Uncle John to leave this here for you, so I’m assuming it’s you who’s reading it. I’m here with your father, and I think I should explain a few things.  
First of all, Mycroft is not your father. The man lying next to me is, though. You’re named after your father, so I guess it kind of explains things. I know this comes as a big shock, but I think you are old enough to handle it and have probably been having doubts for a while. You’re as smart as your father.  
Another thing that I think you should know is my true story, so here it is.   
For nine years of my life I was known as Ava Ostrovsky. My real name is still Grace Holmes (nee. Moran), but there was an evil man known as Jim Moriarty. He was very good friends with my brother, Sebastian (whom I hope you will never have the misfortune to meet) who sold me to Moriarty when I was fifteen. I was taken away not only from my family, but also from my neighbours, the Holmes family.  
I met your father again at a boarding school known as Bakersville Boarding. I went there with Jim, and when me and your dad saw each other again we fell in love. He of course did not know that I was little Grace Moran from next door, and we kept our relationship hidden from Moriarty. He found out, though, and I was taken away again, after my parents had been killed. That was when I lost all love for my brother.  
Then a massive scandal came around, where Jim would threaten to blow people up if Sherlock did not figure out his cases. He called it ‘The Great Game’. I was kept in the dark throughout all of this, and through your father’s fake suicide. Then I was used as bait, and your dad saved me. I was with him again for three months, and then contacted by a woman known as Irene Adler (look her up, she disgusts me too much to write about) contacted me. She told me that I had to go back to Jim so Sherlock could survive. So I did.  
After tricking your father, Jim revealed to me that I was pregnant. After months of torture I lost that child, and I honestly pray that your brother Hamish is watching you. I finally got out again after Mycroft had figured out that we needed to leave Moriarty alone, but we double-crossed the criminal by stationing police units outside every exit. Pretty good plan, huh? And that’s when I had to lie to your father, tell him that I had never really loved him.  
I got married to Mycroft, and had you. But the thing is, me and Sherlock knew I was going to die, and I told him I loved him. So I became pregnant and told Mycroft it was his child. Then came the day that I died.  
Sherlock and John were coming round a week after you were born, and I knew this was the day that I would die. I got all three of them out of the room and faced my fate.  
But I’m talking about the future now.  
All I know is that Sherlock killed himself as well, and we are there with you sweetheart. Every step of the way.  
We love you.  
Love,  
Sherlock and Grace Holmes (i.e. Mum and Dad)  
It was then that Sherlock Jr realised something: they were there with him, and he went back, knowing that he knew everything they had wanted him to.  
His parents watched on from behind the oak tree, smiling. They knew they had done the right thing. For they were not dead, oh no, but had completed their mission.  
They were happy.  
And so was he.  
FIN  
kinda  
um  
yeah  
not the end


	16. Epilogue

Epilogue - Strangers Or Monsters - Chapter One

Dark eyes.

They were her eyes.

That’s what Mycroft says. He says they were beautiful, happy but sad at the same time. My mother was never a happy woman, but she was free. That’s all that matters. That’s what he said before he went off in a helicopter. That was two years ago.

His liquor cabinet is where I find my solace. The bitter, metal-tasting vodka that he downs without a wince is what drowns out the voices in my head. I like to think that it’s Grace’s voice, the Grace that my father fell in love with.

I love that voice, but I also hate it.

I stumble down the road, cutting through the freezing midnight air and letting my scarf fall from my neck. I don’t care anymore. I just need to see them. Straight cut stones they may be, resting over corpses frozen in death, but they represent her warmth. Her warmth and his coldness. Everything.

The gates lie closed in front of me and I get my footing on the iron rungs, pulling myself over it and thudding to the floor. Scrambling up the hill and slipping forwards in front of them, I mumble things. Things about death. I want to lie there with them. Please.

“Mum, I need you…” I burst out crying, hugging the cold marble in my drunken state, “I really do… Mycroft’s not home… I just want you back…” I slur, choking on the sobs that break up my words. I collapse next to where she lies, between her and my father’s graves and point up at the stars. I can see Orion’s belt.

“Are they you and Dad, Mum?” I point up at two stars which twinkle together in the night, “I hope your there… Will you help me go to heaven, Dad? I’m never going to get in without you…” I curl into the foetal position, rocking myself back and forth as I cry.  
It’s only two minutes later that sleep takes me.

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

I wake up with a pounding headache, only realising that I’m in the middle of a graveyard when I pry my eyes open to blinding light. I feel around myself and my fist connects with metal, making me spring up from the grass and look around. A blanket covers me from the elbows down and the thing I felt turns out to be a flask. I don’t know what stranger was kind enough to do this, but I really couldn’t thank them enough.

After opening the flask I discover delicious coffee, which I down in two seconds flat. It scorches my throat, but it sure does feel like nectar of the Gods. After my caffeine rush helps me open my eyes fully and stand up, I see something behind me that shakes my nerves.

My scarf.

How could someone know that was mine?

I may have been drunk but I sure do remember dropping it near my house. My most prized possession. It used to be my father’s.

Unless…

Making my way home I’ve come to terms with one thing.

My parents are alive.

And I have to find them.

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

“Even though you’ve never met him you still love him, don’t you?”

“Yes, and so do you. Don’t deny it, Sherlock Holmes.”

“How could I not when he’s part of you, Grace Holmes?”

 

Chapter Two

The next morning I open the door to two solemn looking men in impeccable suits. One of them sports a briefcase and invites himself in while the other gives me a sympathetic look, following his colleague into the house.

Two hours later they leave with me.

Mycroft.

He’s dead.

“He killed himself. Jumped off of a cliff. It took us ages to find you, so I’m sorry you weren’t informed before.” The first man grumbles, trying to sound sad as we pull up outside the church. I get out and smooth down the suit I pulled on, refusing to wait for the agents and walking around the back of the church.

“Ah! We may now begin!” The vicar checks his watch and mutters through the service, meaning that I almost fall asleep. Being hungover almost certainly does not help. At all. It’s not until halfway through the service that I notice some strange people standing at the border of our group. The wear matching coats and have their faces covered by collars, meaning that they don’t want to be seen.

But who could it be?

The taller one seems to see me and taps his companion on the shoulder, making her face me as well. After a few whispered words they turn back, walking away. Just as I’m about to regard them as some of Mycroft’s workers I see a small piece of paper flutter from the woman’s hand. Not caring what the assembled crowd’s reaction is I run over, snatching up the note and unfolding it.

23 Adelaide Road. Please come. - GH

I ignore the rest of the group and walk as fast as I can towards the nearest main road, hoping that they’ll take my early exit for grief. After hailing a taxi successfully I spend the drive in a tense silence, thinking who GH could be.

Greg?

No.

Graham?

No.

Grace?

Yes.

I pay the cabby and leap out of the car, just about to knock on the door when I see that it’s unlocked. I know this isn’t a very gentlemanly thing to do, but I slip inside, creeping up the stairs until I hear voices.

“Ava, careful!” A woman’s voice shouts, shortly followed by a crash of what sounds like science equipment.

“No!” A baritone voice almost moans, and I imagine the owner sinking to the floor in a fit of anger.

“Sorry, Daddy!” An eight year old’s squeak answers as she begins to cry, only stopping when sharp heeled footsteps cross the floorboards. No other moment is made for a while and I am almost about to leave when the noise picks up again.

“I’ll go get you some more, honey, I’ll be back.” The woman tuts before making her way downstairs, meaning I take to my instinct of holding my breath. I just hope I got the right person.

“Hello, son,” She says as she spots me, immediately wrapping her arms around my neck. I hug her back, even though I’ve just met her. I hate to admit it, but tears start running down my face, turning to fully-fledged sobs when she embraces me further. I may be taller than her by about a foot but I feel so much smaller.

I feel like I’m five inches tall.

“It’s okay…” She whispers, probably not wanting to alert the people upstairs that I’m here. We stand there for around five minutes before she pulls back, opening the door and bringing me out with her.

“Why don’t we go and have a chat? There’s a cafe just around the corner.” She smiles warmly, and somehow I finally feel safe.

“Okay.”

 

Chapter Three

“You have questions…” My mother sits across the table from me, warming her hands on a coffee while a plate of food she ordered lies untouched in front of me. I’m not hungry.

“Why?” I rub my already red eyes, trying not to cry again. I’ve done enough of that in the last fifteen minutes.

“Because you were in danger, sweetie, that’s why…” Her eyes cloud over as she thinks, “I couldn’t let it happen to you. I couldn’t let you die.”

“But… But how? How did Dad know that you weren’t dead?” She looks up and smile sadly.

“Your uncle Sebastian… He helped…” She starts gesturing when she speaks, “My mother looked just like me, so he managed to find her body and set it all up. Moriarty kept it so the police didn’t think anything fishy was going on, and because Seb is his right-hand man…”

“You said is?”

“Sadly, my brother is still with Jim. I don’t think he’ll ever leave…” I expect her to cry but she stares expectantly at me, waiting for my reaction. I don’t know what I should say.

“Sorry…”

“Don’t be sorry. He was a rubbish big brother.” We laugh, only stopping when her phone rings. She apologises and takes the call, probably already knowing who it is.

“Have you got them yet?” A panicked male voice reverberates from the speaker, loud enough so I can hear it. My mother makes a face and stirs her drink, waiting for the man on the other end to calm down.

“Yes, I’ve got some…”

“Well, where are you?”

“Sherlock, it’s not that important. We’ve done this experiment thousands of times!”

“Well, I want to do it again.”

“Later on we’ll go to the park, okay?”

“The park is mundane. No.”

“I thought you’d like to show Ava how the hydraulic pressure pump in the fountain works but o-”

“Fine. Four o’clock.”

“I love you too.”

“Don’t be sarcastic,” He hangs up, leaving her red-faced and laughing. I never knew that my father was so sassy.

“You haven’t got him them, have you?” I ask, watching her catch her breath.

“Not specifically for him, but I’ve always got some hanging around,” She pulls some spare microscopic lenses from her pocket and winks, pushing the plate towards me, “Eat.”

“I’m no-”

“Yes, you are. Now eat.” She glares at me until I grudgingly take a bite, surprised at how good the muffin tastes. Soon I eaten it all, not realising just how starving I was. I haven’t eaten for a few days, but that shouldn’t be too much of a problem.

“You’re just like your dad…” She stops herself from saying something and then tries to change the subject, “So, I guess I should tell you another thing…”  
“What thing?” She reaches into her purse as I speak, opening it and pushing aside phone numbers and fingerprint scans. When she finds what she wants, the container is pushed across the table to me, and my breath hitches in my throat when I see it.

A small girl, around eight years old, with dark hair and searching blue eyes. She smiles in the picture, holding onto a small doll, and I can’t help but see the resemblance between her and the woman next to me. A sister?

“She’s attached to that bear,” Mum sighs, watching my facial expressions. Probably hoping that I haven’t died with shock. “Her name’s Ava. Your younger sister.”

“Oh my God…” I mumble, staring down at the small child. I’d never thought of another one. Never.

“Quite shocking, isn’t it?” She smiles and stands up, letting me keep holding of her wallet while she leads me out. Before we cross any roads she grabs my hand, making sure that I don’t wander out and get hit by a car. In any normal circumstance, an eighteen year old man would pull away from his mother and go to work, but this is different. Very different.

She unlocks a door and turns back to me, still staring down at the picture.

“Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

 

Chapter Four

“Finally!” The man who perfectly fits the description of the man I never met comes around the corner, stopping short when he sees me. My father.

“Sherlock, it’s him…” My mother goes up to him, placing an arm on his shoulder and staring up at him. He looks like he’s gone into shock. A few minutes pass until he clears his throat, regaining composure.

“Hello, son,” He stands there, holding out a hand for a formal handshake, but I have a better idea. I grab his palm and pull him into a hug, feeling him melt into it. Mum stands behind us, having locked eye contact with him.

“Mummy’s home!” A girl runs out from behind the sofa, the exact girl I saw in the picture. My sister. Gees.

“Hey, Ave!” The older girl kneels down just in time to be enveloped by her daughters arm, hugging her back. All the way through this she’s kept her eyes on Sherlock, returning his gaze. I don’t have to be a genius to know that they’re thinking.

“Who’s that?” Ava pulls back and turns to me, the space between her eyebrows creasing.

“That’s your brother, hun…” My father says, still thinking.

“I have a brother?” At first I think she might protest, but she grins, “Yes!” An expression of relief crosses my parents’ faces as the girl grabs my hand and pulls me over to where she was hiding. I catch sight of a dollhouse, a large collection of toys and a science book.

After half an hour of being told to play with her my mother decides to save me.

“Why don’t we go to the park?” Her daughter jumps up and squeals, immediately going to grab her coat. I pull myself up, smiling at Mum when she grins at my father goofing around with his scarf. He wraps it round her neck and pulls her towards him, making her laugh and join in.

“I want to go to the park, Dad, so stop distracting Mum!” The eight year old stands with her arms crossed, one foot tapping and watching as the adults blush and pull back, putting on their coats. How embarrassing.

We walk down the street, my mother being pulled forward by Ava while I hang back with my dad. He pulls out his phone, and I watch him as he sends a text to a detective called Gregson. As he scrolls down I see him hesitate on someone with the surname Watson. A flicker of sadness crosses his face before he turns it off, speeding up considerably.

“Why don’t you talk to him?” I ask, watching his face.

“I can’t. He doesn’t know I’m alive and… and the fact that it’s always been Grace would crush him…” His voice breaks, letting go just a little bit of raw emotion before he brings his mask back.

“You could tell him. I’m sure he’d understand.”

“No. Now he has Arthur, I really don’t think telling him I faked my death again and have had children with the woman he’s always been secretly jealous of would make him a better father figure.” John adopted a boy the year after my parents ‘died’, and we’ve always been close. A little too close.

“Oh…” I trail off, adopting a sad tone.

“We’re here!” Ava shrieks, running straight up to the playground and leaving me behind with our parents.

“You can go with her if you want…” She leans over to me, turning back to my father afterwards, “You as well. You know she won’t shut up until you’ve put her on the monkey bars.” My dad grins and pecks her on the lips before walking off with me, leaving her behind.

I have a feeling something bad’s going to happen.

 

Grace’s POV

As soon as they’re gone I let my smile drop, hurrying to a bench and pulling my phone out. The text still remains on the screen, and I can’t believe it.

‘Did you miss me? - JM’

How did he escape?

I can’t help but think that my brother is something to do with this, and type in my reply, thinking of him.

‘Not really. Could you thank Sebastian for me? I owe him a favour now - GH’

‘Why don’t you go back to Moran? I know for a fact that dear little detective man wouldn’t marry you - JM’

‘If you know that then you also know the reason - GH’

‘Yes. Unfortunately, I think that it’s a terrible one - JM’

‘It’s a better one than why you got my brother to keep me alive - GH’

‘Oh, Grace. If I’d kept you alive I couldn’t do my little trick this time, and I think that would be a shame - JM xxx’

At that last message I turn my phone off in disgust, and it looks like I did it just in time as Sherlock Jr is walking over. He sits next to me, watching his father spin Ava round and try not to kill her in the process.

“I have one more thing that I haven’t shown you…” I mumble, pulling up my sleeves. The deep scars are still there, scratching out one word.

‘Mine’.

“Moriarty?”

“Yes.”

“Why did he do this to you?”

That’s a question.

“Because he knew I could beat him, and he wanted to break me.”

In more way than one.

 

Chapter Five

I can hear their argument from my makeshift bedroom.

“Grace, I told you not to bring him back here!”

“Sherlock, he’s our son! You really expect me to ignore him?”

“Yes! Yes, I do!”

“For God’s sake, I lied for you! Mycroft is dead because of this and you ju-”

“Did you love him?” A pause comes after this until my mother gets incredibly mad.

“Sherlock…”

“Did you? Because if you did I’m out.”

“Sher-”

“Did you?!”

“Yes! Okay?! I did! But now I have you and it’s all being thrown back in my face!”

“You don’t have me.”

“Sherlock, you’re like a child! How could I help it?”

“You could have stayed focused on the plan!”

“There was no plan!”

“You know what, I’m done with this!” I hear heavy footsteps storming out of the front room.

“This shows how much you care!” I hear Mum’s voice crack and imagine her sobbing.“Yes! It does! Because, to be honest, I couldn’t care less at the moment! You’ve brought that boy home an-”  
“Excuse me?! That boy is your son!”

“I’m not too sure about that!”

“Sherlock, I gave up everything! Everything for you!”

“Then who were you texting?”

“What?”

“At the park! Who?!”

“Wh-”

“Tell me or I swear to God I will take Ava and leave!”

“Sherlock…”

“Grace.”

“It was Jim… It was Moriarty…” Sobs break up my mother’s words and I hear a door open.

“I’m not putting up with this…”

“Sherlock, wait!” The door slams and I hear her sink to the floor crying. I want to go out and comfort her but feel as though that would be the worst thing to do, so lie awake.

At eleven o’clock she comes in, smiling softly down at me with bloodshot eyes. She sits next to my feet and starts whispering something.

“Look after your sister, honey. Will you do this? For me…” She stops for breath, “If you heard any of that, I’m sorry. I love you, darling, so this is why you need to do this. Will you do it? For me?”

“Goodbye.”

And those were the last words I remember from my mother before both of my parents disappeared, and I was left with my sister to hide.

I just hope they’ll come back.

 

Chapter Six

“Sher?” My little sister’s voice squeaks from next to me, and I look down at her. We both lie on the sofa, watching re-runs of The Simpsons and trying not to think about how long they’ve been gone. A whole month.

“Yes?” I ask, plastering a fake smile over my face.

“When are they coming back?” The inquisitive look she sends me breaks my heart, and I have to stop myself from telling her the truth. I need to protect her.

“Soon…” She seems to take that as an answer and turns back to the television, not seeing the look of complete and utter despair. I miss them.

I’ve had to refrain from calling John or Mrs Hudson as if I did they’d figure it out. I’d have to tell them. My life is falling apart around me and all I can do is shelter the smaller child from the fact that they may never come back.

A knock at the door interrupts my thoughts and Ava jumps up, grinning.

“They’re back!” She scurries to the door and I pull myself up, starting to go around the corner when I hear an unfamiliar voice.

“Hello, dear. Can I come in?” The man’s voice is obviously fake, but I find myself wanting to believe him. An adult. Help.

“I don’t know you.” Ava states the fact and the man laughs, letting me detect a slight Irish accent.

“Oh, honey, I’m your Uncle Sebastian!”

“No, you’re not. Mummy’s not Irish.” The door starts to close until I hear a low, threatening whisper.

“Listen, Holmes, if you don’t let me in I will burn you…” He straightens up and raises his voice, “Oh, I know you’re there! Come out, come out, wherever you are!” I slide out from cover and find Ava, tears brimming in her eyes as she’s clamped to the stranger’s side.

“Let her go.” I growl, anger boiling over when he shakes his head, “I said, let her go.”

“I know. I heard you. I’m not as stupid as your mother,” Before he can continue I’ve punched him with as much force as I can manage, watching his head rock back. He comes back up smiling, blood already streaming from his nose, “Oh, dear, you ruined my suit! But nevermind, I came prepared!”

Before he's finished speaking I feel a sharp pain in my neck and turn back to see a red-haired man holding a syringe. I’m about to question him when my vision goes blurry and I fall back into him, hearing Ava’s sobs. The man comes next to me, holding onto my sister and walking beside me as I’m carried out of the door.

“I guess choosing a secluded flat didn’t work in your parent’s favour, huh? You are just like Grace, you know. She did exactly that to me once. It was hilarious. She won’t have a chance to do that again, though. I have you two now, and your mother would do anything for you and your father. I wonder who she’ll choose…”

The last thing I hear is his laughter before I black out.

 

Grace’s POV

My phone rings in my pocket and I look at the woman next to me. More specifically, The Woman. She nods and watches me answer, flicking through a Vogue magazine.

“Hello?”

“Ring, ring… Oh, here you are! Grace, dear, it’s been a while!”

“What do you want, Jim?”

“I want you.”

“Don’t be disgusting.”

“Well, I already have what I want, but I think it’s what you want as well. We might have a fight on our hands…”

“What is it?”

“Your spawn.”

No matter how he’s described them, my heart jumps. My children. No.

“How can I get them back?” He laughs, “Jim, listen to me, how?”

“It’s a choice, really… Sherlock or them?”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, gosh, you are incredibly mundane. I kill off little detective man or your brother gets your children. I think he needs to spend some time with his nephew and niece.”  
“What if I don’t choose either?”

“Oh, you’re getting clever now! Good girl! Then I’d kill them all.”

“What is wrong with you?”

“Everything. Catch you later!” I protest but he still hangs up, ignoring me. I turn to Irene, thinking of how she let me stay. We’d become quite close friends even though she almost killed me. Many times.

“We need to tell John.”

“Tell him what, darling?” I hate her use of that noun and show my disgust before continuing.

“That I’m alive. So we need to find Sherlock.”

“And how will we do that?”

“His phone.” I pull it out of my pocket and we laugh, checking his messages.

Looks like he beat us to it.

 

Chapter Seven

Sherlock and John’s texts

Sherlock, come back - JW

Sherlock? Please. For me - JW

I love you so much - JW

I miss you - JW

Sherlock? - JW

Why did you have to do this? I don’t understand - JW

Please - JW

1 week later

Okay, Sherlock? You know what, I understand. You’re not dead. You’re pretending, aren’t you? Like last time. Well, stop. I need you. We’ve just thrown a whole goddamn funeral for you two and you’re probably just standing there laughing. Stop it now - JW

2 months later

I miss you, Sher - JW

A man came up to the flat today asking for you. He needed help with a case. I had to turn him away. It’s not fair, Sherlock. You need to understand - JW

4 months later

I had to take the sign down. You know, the one with our names? The one outside the door telling clients about our whereabouts - JW

You need to come back. Please - JW

5 months later

Well, I’ve done it. Adopted a baby boy. His name’s Arthur, and he reminds me of you. That’s why I got him. To fill the hole you left in my heart. So this is the last text I’ll ever send you. Just don’t forget that I love you. Always - JW  
18 years later

John - SH

Who is this? I know it’s a joke - JW

Dr John Hamish Watson - SH

Seriously, shut up - JW  
Oh, for God’s sake, John, it’s me! Risen again? Back from the dead? Really just pretending all along? - SH

Wait - JW

Oh, wow, you’re even slower than before - SH

You would do this to me again? Again, Sherlock?! - JW

Yes, I would if it saved your life - SH

Well, it didn’t save my life, did it? What the hell is wrong with you? - JW  
I’m a high-functioning sociopath, John, we’ve been over this - SH

Yes, we have. EIGHTEEN YEARS AGO! - JW  
And your memory should be good enough for you to remember that conversation - SH

Oh God… - JW

Now, I was hoping to be invited back? - SH  
No! You bloody well can’t come back! - JW  
That’s no way to treat your best friend - SH

How would you know? Did you use Wikipedia? Google? - JW

Bing, actually… - SH

Damn you! - JW

Can I come back? There’s always the spare room? - SH

(no reply)

John? - SH

Of course, you big fool. Now get over here - JW

End of messages

“And then we had that argument and he left his phone. Simple.” I say, thoughts still nagging in the back of my mind about my children. I’m scared. “Now comes the tricky part. Telling him that I still exist.” I take a deep breath and step out of the car, walking up to the brass knocker of 221B and tapping it.

“Sorry I took so long, dear, I was talking to Mrs Tu-” Mrs Hudson stops as she sees me and screams, resulting in hurried footsteps downstairs and being greeted by the faces of the two men.

“Bloody hell…” John whispers, clutching at the banister. I guess he took me out of the equation.

“What do you want?” Sherlock growls, sounding pretty angry. He’s quite slow at getting over arguments.

“Moriarty. He has the children and holds something over me,” I won’t mention what.

“So you’re coming to me for help?” He scoffs, about to refuse when I interrupt.

“No. I came for help from John.” I look at the older man in his shock, meeting his wide eyed stare with petrified eyes.

Moriarty will use anything against me.

And that includes my son.

 

Chapter Seven

I lie on the cold floor, too weak to move. We’ve only been stuck in this hellhole for two days now, but I’m already dying. Every time that devil has tried to hurt Ava I’ve taken the blows instead, so my body is covered in fresh scars. It’s like hell on earth.

“Are you enjoying that?” The door opens to my right and Moriarty walks in, grinning maniacally. His suit is still miraculously spotless, though he insists on brushing invisible lint from his shoulder.

“Not really. Could be better.” I face him head on, glaring at him from my position on the floor. He just smiles and goes out of his way to step on my hand as he goes over to the chair in the corner. Set up to watch me be beaten by my own uncle. How sick can he get?

“I had an interesting conversation with your mother this morning.” He doesn’t even have to try to make me feel intrigued. I’m already wondering.

“About what?”

“I gave her a choice. She chose the death of your father. I really didn’t think she’d let me kill the man she’d die for. Oh well, she’s mine. She always will be.”

“Why my mother? Why not any other girl?”

“Because I wanted to.” He leans forward in his chair, popping his eyes and laughing. I sneak a glance at the corner where my sister sleeps, not wanting to alert him of her presence.

“You’re sick,” He’s about to reply when a woman’s voice interrupts.

“Dear, you have no idea how many times I’ve said that to him…” I turn my head to see my mother, standing in the doorway and holding a gun. Moriarty stands when he sees her, laughing even more.

“How did you get that, then?” She walks towards him, spinning the weapon between her fingers.

“Just disabled a couple of your followers. They might need a doctor, by the way.” She throws to gun to his hands, knowing fully well that he won’t catch it and watching it skid across the metal panes on the floor.

“Oh. Pity we don’t have Watson.” They start to circle around each other like predators fighting for a kill, neither one of them showing even a hint of nervousness.

“Yeah. Terrible.” I catch sight of a piece of paper hidden behind her back, scanning the writing.

‘HIDE. TAKE AVA WITH YOU AND GET INTO A CORNER. ONE NEAR A WINDOW WOULD BE BEST. I LOVE YOU.’

I do as the letter says, crawling over to the sleeping child and dragging her to the high wall, the only one which has an opening. It’s very high up though, so if she expects us to climb out we won’t escape.

“So, I hear that Sherlock’s in a little mood with you…” Moriarty’s eyes gleam wickedly as he smiles at her.

“Yep. He’s throwing a tantrum.”

“As usual…”

“You know him as well as I do, don’t you?” As she reaches an area across from me her eyes flicker over, showing a glimpse of relief before going back to Jim.

“I know him even better.”

“So, where’s my brother?”

“Sniper. I thought he’d like the job.”

“He was always into that sort of stuff. You know, blowing people’s faces off…”

“He started young. Like me.”

“Sure…”

“So, do you want to go look at the death of detective?” Mum winces but then recovers her composure stalking towards Moriarty before wrapping her arms around his neck.

“I’d rather do this,” As soon as their lips connect she pulls out another gun from her waistband and shoots him in the head. Good job Ava was asleep. After brushing herself down she presses a button on her phone, that action being swiftly followed by a rope dropping from the window above us. As she starts to walk away I call out to her.

“Aren’t you coming with us?” She smiles warmly at me and looks down at her phone.

“No. I’ve got to go. Something important to do.” She comes slightly closer, “And tell Arthur how you feel. He’s waiting out there for you.” After winking at my shocked face she runs out of the door and I hear John’s voice from the glass.

“Come on. Let’s get you out of here.”

 

Chapter Nine

“Hey,” I shout, catching Sebastian’s attention. He stands by the window, poised with a gun but letting it drop when he sees me. He probably already knows what I’ve done.

“You do know that he has to die now? That Sherlock Holmes’s blood will be on your hands?” I can’t help but catch a hint of regret in his voice. He doesn’t want to do this. He has to.

“I’m not stupid, Seb.” I walk closer to him, confident that he won’t turn the weapon on me. He’s not that much of an idiot. “But he doesn’t have to die,” At my words my brother looks confused, as if he’s replaying Moriarty’s orders in his head. He looks like he did when we faked my death.

“Molly, I need your help,” I walk up to her, watching her. She looks like she’s reliving another moment as I say those words, immediately going pale. She already knows what I’m going to say.

“What do you need?” She asks, trembling.

“Find this body,” I show her the picture, fighting back repressed memories of when I was with the person. Before she became a shell.

“Who is she?”

“My mother, Louisa Elizabeth Moran,”

“She looks just like you…”

“That’s why I need her. She was shot, so not buried. Investigated by none other than Mycroft Holmes himself.”

“Why do you need her?” She already knows.

“I need to die.”

“Whatever you need.”

“What do you mean?” He asks, trying not to let his brain reach the conclusion. He doesn’t want to know.

“We have to go. All of the Moran’s need to be eradicated. Mum and Dad are gone, now we need to leave. We need to die.” His face is grave as he walks up and hugs me, kissing me on the forehead before pulling back.

“How?”

“Jim’s minions are pretty pissed at me, so they’ll probably do the dirty work for us. In fact, they’re across the road.” A single tear makes it’s way down my cheek and he wipes it away.

“What about Holmes? The children?”

“John will look after them. I made him promise.”

“What about my kids? Emily?”

“John still thinks she’s his. She’ll be fine.”

“Okay. Are you ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be…” We turn around and face the glass, staring straight at the guns aimed at us. We’re not afraid.

My eyes dart across to Sebastian, seeing the laser on his head. I grab his hand, knowing that we can do this.

An echoing gunshot.

A split second of pain.

One final squeeze on my hand.

Then death.

~~~ ~~~ three months later ~~~ ~~~

Sherlock Jr’s POV

I miss her.

Of course I do.

She’s left a hole in my life so big that it can never be filled.

Only stitched up.

By Arthur.

Sherlock’s POV

I miss her.

She sent me one last text.

I’m dead. I love you.

John’s POV

I’m not happy.

Neither is Sherlock.

Ava doesn’t understand where her mum is.

Emily hardly comes out of her room anymore.

Sherlock Jr is though.

So is Arthur.

They’re together.

And that’s all that matters.

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all, folks.  
> Yup, the thing has chapter, but it's an epilogue, so my thought process was  
> Lump it  
> Bye


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